


The Price of Good Manners

by GenJinjur



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3841987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenJinjur/pseuds/GenJinjur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world's been saved, and Merlin's stuck picking up the broken pieces back at HQ. Some pieces turn out to be considerably less broken than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Good Manners

In the end they saved the world, minus a sizable percentage of the rich and famous and a less sizable, but still distressingly large, percentage of what Valentine deemed expendable. Well done, team. As interim Arthur, it falls to Merlin to pick up the pieces, literally, at London headquarters. He supervises the cleanup and disposal of Chester King and the two other knights who had fallen, first under either Valentine’s or Arthur’s thrall, and then by Merlin’s own hand when he’d activated their implants. It falls to Merlin alone to clean out Chester’s office. After all, the man had been Arthur for decades; he could have had _anything_ had stashed away in there. 

He sorts through stacks of paperwork, knick-knacks, mission reports, half-dissected weapon prototypes, pamphlets on global climate change, and executive summaries on the progress of the new recruits as he tries to come to grips with what amounts to one hell of a paradigm shift. It hardly seems possible that less than three full days have passed since Roxy and Eggsy faced their final challenge as recruits, the one that Roxy alone had passed. He honestly wasn’t sure what was to be done with Eggsy now -- there was a meeting with the rest of the knights in a few hours to discuss that very matter, the situation having become far more complicated than a simple test. Merlin spies the gun the boy had refused to fire. “Caused us a fair bit of trouble, didn’t you,” he asks it crossly, picking it up and checking the chamber. His glare turns to confusion, then to pained comprehension, as he empties the live rounds into his hand. “Chester, you fucking bastard,” he mutters to a dead man’s memory. “What else have you done?”

All things considered, the meeting over Eggsy’s fate is mercifully short. Most of the attending knights are willing to grant the boy a certain amount of leeway in gratitude for his part in foiling Valentine’s plans. Those more inclined to be stubborn are eventually brought around by the argument that the final test was invalidated by virtue of being proctored by a corrupt disgrace to the table. “We’re agreed then?” Merlin asks. “Gary Unwin will be offered the position of Galah-- one moment.” The line that was ringing was the “only in case of death or earth-shattering news” line, which was the only one he left open during meetings. “What,” he asks shortly. “What?! Of course we’ll send someone immediately!” He turns towards the assembled knights. “I must ask that we postpone Eggsy’s official assignment, as I’ve just been informed that a man answering Harry Hart’s description has been found _alive_ in a hospital in Owensboro, Kentucky.” Amid the ensuing uproar, Merlin simply can’t be sorry for dragging the decision out and doubts the younger man would hold it against him. “Fuck it,” Merlin decides. “If Harry wants his place back, Eggsy can be Caradoc. We haven’t had a Caradoc in ages.”

*******

Merlin can hear the thump of Eggsy’s feet as he jogs towards him in the hangar. “Is it true?” he asks, panting slightly.  
Merlin turns to look at Eggsy, who is holding himself very straight and nearly still. His expression settles somewhere between hope and disbelief, and he’s practically vibrating from the force of keeping his emotions in check. “I don’t know, Eggsy, but that’s what I’m going to find out.”

Determined blue eyes meet his own. “I want to go with you.”

Merlin sighs and continues walking. “I’m sorry, but that’s just not possible.”

“Not possible!” One hand darts out to snag Merlin’s coat sleeve. “ _No fuckin’ way_ am I staying here if there’s a chance that Harry’s--”

Merlin has had one hell of a day, and doesn’t hesitate to bat the offending hand away. “Do not use that tone of voice with me,” he snarls, dangerously quiet. “This is not your decision to make; it’s mine, and I say you aren’t going.” Eggsy sucks in a quick breath, but doesn’t speak again, and at the absolutely stricken look on the boy’s face, Merlin does his best to calm his voice. “Eggsy, I don’t know what we’re going to find in Owensboro, or how long we’ll need to be gone. I don’t know anything at all yet. I will keep you apprised of the situation, but it’s simply not practical for you to come with us now.”

Eggsy looks down at his oxfords for long moment before meeting Merlin’s eyes again. “I… I understand, sir. And I’m sorry for shouting earlier.” His voice is thick and muddled with emotion, but his words are sincere enough.

Merlin simply nods. “Your apology is accepted.” He continues his way to the jet, but pauses when Eggsy clears his throat to speak.

“Merlin? When you find him, you’ll tell him, yeah? That I wanted to be there?”

And Merlin’s a miserable old cynic, but the fierce hope in Eggsy’s eyes has something uncomfortably soft and fond uncurling somewhere in the vicinity of his breastbone. “Of course I will, Eggsy. Promise.” And he keeps that promise, murmuring Eggsy’s message amidst the entire litany of reassurances he utters to the unconscious friend he finds in a hospital in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky, because Merlin is a man of his word.

*******

It’s two weeks of close calls, false alarms, and real alarms in Kentucky before Harry is stable enough to be transported back to England. Between the state of Harry and the state of the world at large, the next several days blur together for Merlin in a mishmash of damage control and medical tests punctuated by conversations with concerned agents and the occasional brief nap. The constant barrage of questions -- about Arthur, about V-Day, about Harry, about Eggsy -- is almost more stressful than trying to manage the issues themselves. In fact, since his return from the States, Merlin has barely had a moment to himself, which is possibly why he doesn’t catch on to the latest situation with Eggsy until faced with a small, but fierce, Lancelot insisting that he really must do something about him. Sir.

Merlin’s thrown for a moment. Eggsy’s only _on_ missions in a strictly unofficial sense until he can reconvene the knights and officially grant him a title. He covers his face with his hands for just a second before sliding them up to clutch at his temples. “What’s he done?” he asks, sounding irritatingly plaintive to his own ears. Roxy’s brows draw together and her face darkens, and Merlin would be tempted to take a step backwards, except it would look ridiculous because really, Roxy’s tiny. 

“He’s done his job,” she spits out. “Or someone’s job, anyway, until he’s properly appointed. But beyond that, every moment that he’s not in the field, he’s been in Harry’s room.” She crosses her arms as her expression shifts over to worried. “I don’t know how long it’s been since he went home. I think he’s using the barracks showers.”

Merlin sighs. “And is there a reason why the hospital staff haven’t sent him packing?”

He receives an eyeroll in return. “He’s got half of them eating out of the palm of his hand and the rest of them afraid to cross him.”

“Sounds serious,” he scoffs.

“Merlin, please.” Roxy bites her lip and looks down for a moment. “I’m really worried about him. You know they had a bit of a row before Harry left for Kentucky, and and I think he’s taken it to heart.”

Merlin had not, in fact, known that. It explains… a lot of things. “I’ll talk to him,” he says.

“Thank you, sir.”

As he enters Harry’s medical suite, he can faintly hear Eggsy’s half of what sounds like an animated conversation. He knows better now than to get excited; the conversation is one-sided, as it has been every other time, and Merlin pauses with a grimace as he realises that this has, in fact, been the scene that’s met him most times he’s entered the room. He should have seen this without Roxy confronting him directly.

“...should have seen her, Harry, she was brilliant! You’d never believe she ever had a problem with heights.”

“Eggsy.” 

Eggsy startles a little at the sound of his name, and turns to look up at the newcomer. His sheepish smile is just a bit frayed around the edges.

“Oh, hello, Merlin. Just keepin’ Harry here in the loop, yeah?”

“I see.” He sits down -- no sense looming over the boy. Yet. “Did you get to the part yet where you took out their snipers? That was pretty impressive.”

“Really?” Eggsy asks. “I think I could’ve did the second one a bit quicker.” 

Merlin sighs. “You got him as soon as you had a clear shot. No one could have done it quicker without an unacceptable risk to civilians.”

Eggsy hums in acknowledgement, and for the first time in ages, Merlin really looks at the boy. Exhaustion is obvious in the slump of his shoulders and the dark, nearly bruised-looking, circles under his eyes. His voice is clear and steady, but there’s an edge to it that wasn’t there a few weeks ago, a hint of something stretched too thin. 

“When was the last time you slept?”

Eggsy looks puzzled.“In the plane, on the way back from Zagreb?”

“In a bed, Eggsy,” Merlin clarifies. “When was the last time you slept in your own bed?”

And God help him, but there’s Eggsy with his eyes screwed shut, lips moving slightly as he tries to calculate back to the last time he went home. 

“S’Wednesday, right? So, four days ago,” he concludes.

“It’s Friday. Go home, Eggsy.”

“Naw, I’m good.”

Alright, looming it is. “Did that sound like a suggestion? Go home. Check in with your mum, play with the dog for a bit, and get some goddamned rest.” Eggsy actually flinches, and Merlin realises that he may have raised his voice a touch.

“But I’m not tired,” he insists, swaying to his feet.

“Eggsy.”

“Please don’t make me leave,” he asks in a small voice, that edge from before turning into something sharper and more desperate.

“Ah, fuck,” Merlin mutters. He places a hand on Eggsy’s shoulder, cursing again under his breath when he feels the tremors rippling through the muscles there. “I’m not sending you away,” he says. The boy looks up at him, eyes wide and wary. “We need you to be in top form, especially now.” His voice is low and careful, and as Eggsy slowly blinks up at him, Merlin’s struck with the image of some small, wild thing being coaxed out of the underbrush. “If you collapse from exhaustion, where does that leave the rest of us, hmm?” Eggsy shakes his head in protest, but it’s just rote at this point, he’s half nodding off already. “Just a few hours, Eggsy. We can find a room for you here or take you home, but you need to get some sleep.”

“Who c’n… bloody _sleep_... with all this racket?”

Eggsy spins around so fast that he wobbles and almost falls over, Merlin reaching out an arm to steady him even as he squeezes past him. He slams the heel of his hand into the call button, and drops into a crouch beside the bed. “Harry,” Merlin asks softly, taking the other man’s hand. “Are you awake?” 

The hand in his shifts, and creases appear in the bandaged brow. “No,” Harry mumbles. “Fuck off.” 

Merlin hears Eggsy’s choked off exclamation in the background, sees medical staff moving in his peripheral vision, but ignores it. Squeezing Harry’s hand a little tighter, his voice sharpens as he says, “Harry, we need you to open your eyes right now. It’s important.” 

Harry’s answering sigh is extremely aggravated, but after a moment he blinks, his good eye focused blearily on Merlin’s own. “Merlin, what?” he grumbles.

Relief slams into Merlin with almost physical, dizzying force. “D’ye know where you are, Harry?” he asks. 

“Hmm? Headquarters. Fuck. Did I break Tristan’s record?”

Merlin laughs, and it’s only a little high-pitched and manic. “Nah, but I’m pretty sure you’ve set some new ones.” Doctors and nurses gently nudge Merlin aside, and by the time they’re finished with their tests and measurements Harry’s out again. This time, however, they assure him that it’s simply much-needed sleep. Eggsy’s grinning madly at him. Merlin’s answering smile drops off his face when Eggsy’s legs crumple under him and he sits down hard. He’s pale and shaky as Merlin crouches down beside him. 

“‘m dizzy,” Eggsy mumbles with a puzzled look in his eyes.

“Aye, that’ll be the adrenaline crash,” Merlin sighs, and hoists the boy to his feet. “Up you go, now.” Merlin takes most of Eggsy’s weight as they make their way to the empty barracks, which have the closest beds to medical. Eggsy sits down hard on the nearest bed, still looking dazed and vague. Merlin briefly entertains the thought of getting the boy into proper pyjamas, but gives it up as a lost cause. He helps him with his shoes and jacket before Eggsy gets the idea and strips down to his shorts before collapsing under the covers, too exhausted to even be embarrassed by his downfall. 

“Wha’s Tristan’s record,” he slurs. Merlin’s confused for a moment, before remembering Harry’s earlier comment. 

“Fewest number of days between trips to the infirmary. He landed there three times in one week,” Merlin recalls. He narrows his eyes and pokes Eggsy in the chest. Eggsy’s so tired that he doesn’t even react beyond blinking down at his finger. “It’s not a record that any of you lot should aspire to break.”

Eggsy’s brow furrows at that pronouncement, but he says with a sleepy grin, “Harry’s gonna be alright, ain’t he?” 

“I’m starting to think he might be,” Merlin replies, barely resisting the urge to tuck Eggsy in before he leaves, turning the light off behind him as he goes.

*******

Of course Harry remembers the fucking argument. Not right away. He lets Merlin be lulled into a false sense of… well, security is pushing it. Perhaps a false sense of “no new disasters for five fucking minutes.” Merlin’s congratulating Harry on passing yet another round of neurological tests with flying colours, when a rapping on the doorframe announces Eggsy’s entrance into the room. “At least we know he isn’t a vampire,” Merlin deadpans. He looks over at Harry and startles. Harry’s gone pale, wearing a dark expression far out of proportion to what is, for Eggsy, a minor breach of etiquette. The smile drops off Eggsy’s face, replaced by something more worried. “Is everything alright in here?” he asks. Merlin shakes his head and shrugs. Harry practically growls out his reply. “I can’t believe you washed out of training over a fucking dog.” 

Eggsy’s jaw drops for a split second, but he recovers more quickly than Merlin. Someone who didn’t know the boy probably wouldn’t even notice how cautiously he approaches his mentor. “What d’you remember, Harry?” he asks quietly.

“I remember enough,” Harry spits out. “Arthur informed me that you’d failed,” and if Harry’d been looking, he might have been the only person left on earth who’d have noticed Merlin’s flinch. “And if that weren’t humiliating enough, security interrupted to let us know you’d stolen the shuttle.” The rueful quirk to Eggsy’s lips could hardly be called a smile. “Yeah. But, Harry…”

“No.” Harry cuts the boy off mid-sentence and Merlin closes his eyes, imagining how this must have gone before, when Eggsy would have been angry and defensive. Roxy’d mentioned a row, but he hadn’t realised how ugly it must have been. “Whatever your excuses are,” Harry says, “I don’t want to hear them. You’ve embarrassed me, wasted the opportunity I gave you, and to what end? What are you even doing here?” Eggsy doesn’t say a word, just closes his eyes and nods as Harry continues his diatribe, and the quiet acceptance in that defeated little gesture spurs Merlin to say, “That is enough.” 

Both Harry and Eggsy turn incredulous eyes on him, and he takes advantage of the sudden silence. “If by ‘here’ you mean Kingsman, Eggsy stepped up when we needed him and he’s earned his place at the table. If you mean ‘in this room,’ masochism is as good an explanation as any, I suppose.” 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Eggsy puts in, still looking a bit discombobulated. “Harry, I tried to say this the last time we had this discussion, but it’s worth saying again. I am sorry that I let you down. Oh, and if you do remember anything else, I’m sorry about the shit I said back at yours. It weren’t fair, and I shouldn’t’ve said it.” He nods at Merlin, and edges his way out the door. Merlin rounds on Harry. “I’d love to blame that on the head injury, but I’ve known you since you were his age, and you’ve always been a bit of an arsehole. A moment.” And he leaves a stunned Harry in his wake as he pops out after Eggsy, not quite slamming the door behind him.

The expression Eggsy’s wearing is complicated, but at least it’s not the sad, resigned thing from before. “I suppose the gentlemanly thing to do would be to pretend I didn’t hear you say that last part?” he asks. “Yes, actually,” Merlin sighs. “Too bad I ain’t a gentleman then,” he smirks. His face turns serious again. “Thanks, Merlin, for that back there,” he says. “You didn’t need to… but, well, I appreciate it.” 

Merlin sighs again, one hand reaching up to massage his temples. “Look, Eggsy, what Harry said in there was…”

“Nothing he didn’t say before,” Eggsy interrupted. “If anything, he was a little less dramatic about it this go. It’s not a big deal.”

“Eggsy--”

“No, look, the day I met him, Harry told me my dad would be disappointed in me and sent me home to get my arse kicked by my stepfather as some sort of crazy loyalty test.” Eggsy says, in much the same tone that one would use when commenting on a porridge breakfast.

Merlin’s not as insouciant. “Jesus Christ, Eggsy.”

Eggsy’s eyes grow impossibly big and round, “What, you mean no one held a knife to Rufus’s throat as part of his recruitment speech?” Merlin rolls his eyes at the offended innocent act, and Eggsy chuckles in response. “He missed a hell of a pitch, then. All I’m saying is, I’m not that delicate and if Harry starts worrying about my feelings now, you should check him for a brain bleed. ‘Sides, at least this time I get a chance to make it up to him, yeah?”

Merlin claps him on the shoulder. “Aye, you’ve both got another chance to make it right. But first I’ve got to have a chat with our cranky friend in there, and that includes catching him up on what he’s missed.” 

“You mean V-Day.” Eggsy looks troubled, which is a surprise. He’s been pushing Merlin to fill Harry in on Valentine’s death, and Arthur’s, for days now. “There’ll be.. He’ll have questions for me, I think. When you’re done. I’ll swing back in a bit, yeah?”

Merlin nods, clapping the boy on the shoulder again, and heads back into the lion’s den.

********

Merlin enters the room and is faced with one guilty-looking Harry Hart. “Admitting to eavesdropping is poor form,” he says as he closes the door behind him. “But we’re all spies here.”

“Yes, well.” Harry coughs sheepishly. “It occurs to me that I may have overreacted just now.” 

“Perhaps a bit,” Merlin acknowledges. He sits down beside Harry. “Do you have any idea how often I’ve given that ‘As far as I’m concerned, you’ve all failed’ speech to new trainees?”

Harry shrugs. “At least as many times as you’ve pretended to drown the ringer cadet.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re clever, but you’re not,” he chastises, but there’s no bite in it. “Over the past fifteen years, I can count the number of times someone’s gone back for the drowning cadet on one hand, and have at least the pinkie and the thumb left over. They barely recognise each other at that point, let alone think of themselves as any kind of unit, and they’re caught off guard. It’s to the point where the cadet drowning is a sad given. The real test is how the others react. We’ve had cadets wash out because they couldn’t handle the guilt. Others refuse to accept any responsibility. They last longer than the guilt-stricken ones, but still wash out before the end.”

“This is fascinating, Merlin, truly, but surely there’s a point to this psychology lesson?”

“The point, you impatient bastard, is that the good ones, the really good ones, accept the responsibility for the cadet’s death, but they take that guilt and they learn from it. They use it. It reminds them that it doesn’t matter if you know them or not, if you _like_ them or not, you always watch out for your team.”

Harry leans forward. “And Eggsy?”

Merlin smiles, remembering.“He was the only one of that lot that never tried to get ahead at the expense of another member of the group. Even Roxy tried to get in with the mark at the pub by sabotaging the competition. Granted, that might have had something to do with Charlie being a colossal prick, but still. Eggsy took Amelia’s death to heart more than any other member of his cohort, possibly more than we really needed him to, but when I told him that we needed him to help stop Valentine, he just did it. Nevermind that we’d already kicked him out. Somehow that boy’s decided that Kingsman are his team, and we’re stuck with him whether we want him or not.”

“And Arthur approved that,” Harry asks blandly, no expression on his face. Merlin pauses, at a loss for words. 

“Damn,” The words are soft and laced with genuine regret. “I suspected that was one of the topics you were avoiding, but I am sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin finds his voice, but it’s gone rough and cold. “Don’t be. He died with one of Valentine’s chips in his neck.”

The color drains from Harry’s face and his expression falls. “What?” he whispers, head shaking in denial. “No. Are you certain? No, of course you are, you wouldn’t… Chester, though. Really?” He looks up and Merlin is struck by the conflict clearly visible in his expression, grief and shame, anger and confusion all warring for dominance at news that he clearly didn’t want to believe. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Merlin said, because Harry may not have particularly cared for Chester, but he’d followed him same as they all had, and for longer than many. To find out that he’d betrayed him, betrayed everything that they’d all thought Kingsman stood for since they’d joined, young and impossibly idealistic -- it was a blow. And Merlin wasn’t finished yet. “Agravain and Kay were in league with Valentine as well, but we didn’t find that out until after… well, that’s a longer story. For now, suffice it to say that your death has been avenged, thoroughly and dramatically, if somewhat prematurely.” 

Harry is staring at his hands, which tremble just the slightest bit, but looks up at Merlin’s words. He raises an eyebrow and offers a pale imitation of his sardonic smirk, barely enough to conceal his utter bewilderment at this turn of events. “You know how I feel about making a scene,” he scolds lightly.

“Aye, well, you should have thought of that when you were recruiting then, because you picked a bit of a show pony.” He lets that sink in. 

“Wait, you mean Eggsy”

“Killed Arthur? Yes. Valentine as well. And quite a few people in between. Arthur was the first, though. Thanks to a little sleight of hand on Eggsy’s part and someone’s insistence in showing off in front of his recruit, Arthur ended up poisoning himself with his own pen.”

Harry looks shaken. “My God.”

“The poison was meant for Eggsy,” Merlin puts in, slightly worried that his explanation has left Eggsy looking a little bloodthirsty.

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I had got that, thank you. I owe him an apology about the dog, don’t I?”

“Oh for the love of… Yes, Harry, I suppose you do. So glad to see you’ve got your priorities in order. But, along those lines, there is something else that I feel I ought to tell you. I haven’t told Eggsy yet, although if I’d known you were going to be such a…”

“Haven’t told Eggsy what?” asks the man himself, popping his head into the room.

“Haven’t told Eggsy to knock before entering,” Merlin deadpans, rolling his eyes. “No, wait. Everyone’s told Eggsy that, and several times if I recall correctly.”

Eggsy shrugs an apology, still half in the corridor, and Merlin sighs heavily. “Get in here, then.” He gestures at a chair. Soon Eggsy’s seated and has joined Harry in staring at Merlin expectantly. With no further reason to stall, Merlin outlines his discovery of the gun, and the bullets it was loaded with, in Arthur’s study. As he speaks, he sees Harry’s face, still a little pale from prior revelations, take on a decidedly green tinge. Eggsy has noticed as well, he can tell by the way the younger man’s eyes dart from Harry to Merlin, by the worried crease in his forehead. Beyond that, Merlin can’t begin to guess what Eggsy’s thinking, but the first words out of his mouth are the last he would have anticipated.

“I expect I could’ve saved us all a lot of grief if I’d shot the fucker when I had the chance. My bad.”

And that’s not… Somehow Merlin has lost control of this conversation. He doesn’t like it, and by Harry’s shuffling and throat clearing, he’s not alone. A muscle jumps in Eggsy’s jaw, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence is beginning to become oppressive. Harry is the first to break it. “Eggsy, I owe you an apology.”

Eggsy looks skeptical. “Yeah, what for?”

“The last test, the one with…” Harry sounds flustered. “You made the right choice after all. I’m”

“No.” Eggsy’s voice is hard and surprisingly angry. “Don’t apologise for that. Not when you don’t even… just, there’s nothing for you to apologise for. I still failed.”

“But, Eggsy,”

“I still failed! Even if Arthur’d told… fuck, even if you’d told me the gun was loaded with blanks, I still wouldn’t have shot JB. I still would have failed, been sent home, and we already know what you think of that.” Eggsy’s on his feet, trying to brush past Merlin, but Merlin reaches an arm out to stop him and Eggsy doesn’t break his hold. “Eggsy,” he says. “What is all this?”

“Five meters minimum,” Eggsy whispers lowly, eyes fixed on the floor. Merlin doubts Harry even caught the words.

“Beg pardon?”

Eggsy looks up then, eyes flashing. “It’s the safe separation distance during training exercises with blank rounds. Five meters. Mind, that’s with rifles -- with a handgun it’s probably closer to a meter. So, yeah. Even if JB hadn’t been my dog, the one that depends on me to feed him and walk him and not fucking maim him on some old fuck’s whim, I’m not shooting something small and harmless and unable to defend itself while it’s staring down the barrel of my gun from fifteen centimeters away, blanks or no.” Eggsy’s hands are clenched into fists at his sides, and his body thrums with tension, but his voice is steady. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” He practically flees the room, leaving the other two men gaping in his wake.

*******

“What just happened?”

“Ivory towers,” Harry mutters, shaking his head.

“What?” Merlin asks a little crossly, not really feeling up to Harry being cryptic just now.

“Hmm?” Harry looks up. “Oh, something Eggsy said to me the day I recruited him about judging his actions without considering the reasoning behind them.”

“I assume his version was more colourful.”

“Obviously. But it was a valid point nonetheless, and one that runs both ways.”

“Well, then, I guess we’d best go share some enlightenment. After you?” They exit the room, and after a short search are unsurprised to find Eggsy in the barracks again. Until they select a new round of trainees, it’s one of the few rooms that is nearly guaranteed to be empty. Eggsy sits on the floor, back against one of the beds, hugging his knees to his chest and staring at his reflection in the two-way mirror. As his reflection is joined by two others, he groans softly and buries his head in his arms. Merlin sighs as he sits crosslegged on the floor next to Eggsy, their shoulders not quite touching. This earns him a raised eyebrow from Harry, who sits on a bed like a sensible adult.

“When Roxy fired her gun,” Merlin begins, staring straight ahead, “Georgette was sitting nearly two metres from her. I wouldn’t have let her much closer than that.” Two eyes peek out of the circle of Eggsy’s arms. “When she fired, the dog was startled, but Roxy wasn’t. Do you know why?” He tilts his head to meet Eggsy’s gaze directly. “Because she knew I wouldn’t make her kill a fucking poodle for no good reason.”

“The dog test is about trust, Eggsy,” Harry explains. “But your test was rigged against you, because Chester was a backstabbing, treacherous bastard, and you were right not to trust him. And I apologise, again, because if I had asked you to explain what happened instead of berating you, we’d all have found that out much sooner.”

Eggsy breaks the silence after a few long moments. “Apology accepted, Harry. And... thank you.” His voice is a little shaky, but somehow it still sounds stronger than it has before. He bumps Merlin’s shoulder with his own. “You know I fucking _trust_ you, right?” he asks. And yes, Merlin had rather suspected, but after hearing Eggsy say it in such achingly sincere tones, he doesn’t even try to hide his grin as he says, “ I suppose I trust you too,” and is rewarded with a snort of laughter.

Harry’s looking at them both as if they’ve sprouted a few extra appendages, and at Merlin’s raised eyebrow he says, “I was only out for a month, correct?”

“Yeah, but you slept through Saint Crispin’s Day, Harry. Deal with it.”

Harry’s jaw actually drops, much to Merlin’s amusement. 

“The boy’s right; a bond was forged.”

“It’s alright, Harry. Me an’ Rox an’ Merlin will let you join our band of brothers as long as you promise to stay out of a coma for at least the next couple of months.”

Merlin can tell that it’s on the tip of Harry’s tongue to say something about Eggsy demonstrating yet another bit of unexpected cultural literacy, but instead he simply replies, “I think I’d very much like that,” and Eggsy smiles as bright as the sun.


End file.
